


Video Call

by PunsBulletsAndPointyThings



Series: Internet Friends AU [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, I forgot to mention it in fic but Qui-Gon is kind of a hippie, Internet Friends AU, M/M, Modern AU, Obi-Wan is Tired, not canon ages, pre slash, this is just the start this is probably going to end up being a ficlet series oops, unbetaed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-28
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2019-01-06 09:20:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12208353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PunsBulletsAndPointyThings/pseuds/PunsBulletsAndPointyThings
Summary: Qui-Gon Jinn - onlineObi-Wan Kenobi - onlineObi-Wan Kenobi: Can we video call?Qui-Gon Jinn: Of course.





	Video Call

**Author's Note:**

> So this is an EXTREMELY self-indulgent au I tossed around with Lacefedora.....two summers ago. It has finally worn away at me enough to write a bit.
> 
> It will....probably end up being a ficlet series. I fucking love this silly au.

Obi-Wan slammed the door behind him carelessly, his bag already half falling off him and only clinging to his bicep by one strap. That too was quickly and unceremoniously abandoned against the wall, and his boots quickly followed. His beeline for the ancient, sagging excuse for a sofa was foiled when Obi-Wan stumbled, cracking his calf against the corner of coffee table. Cursing, Obi-Wan stumbled, his cursing growing louder when his hand caught a stack of notebooks and papers and sent them tumbling to the floor.

For a moment, Obi-Wan just stood there, leg still throbbing in pain, and stared at the new mess. Slowly, he breathed in, actively keeping it slow and drawn out. Letting it out in a gust, he carefully picked his way to the couch and sat down, movement still exaggeratedly measured as he retrieved his laptop from where it had become half buried under a cushion. Flipping it open, Obi-Wan took a moment as the screen flickered from black to the picture of himself, Anakin, and Padme from the previous summer, to rub his face and press the heels of his palms into his eyes until he saw stars.

The familiar sound of Skype booting up made him drop his hands away from his face, a tiny, tired smile tugging at the corner of his lips, even as the heavy ache in his chest seemed to swell even further. It caught in his throat and made it hard to breathe. He sucked in another careful breath and clicked the top name under his Recent Chats, the tiny green bubble beside the name filling him with almost overwhelming relief.

 

**Obi-Wan Kenobi:** _Qui?_

 

He found himself holding his breath as he waited, staring at the screen until he stopped focusing on the blue and white and seemed to be trying to stare through it inside. The relief had faded as fast as it had come and the awful ache made the numb staring seem like a far better option at the moment.

The chime on a message received made him blink back to himself.

 

**Qui-Gon Jinn:** _Hello Ben. Back from classes already?_

Obi-Wan squeezed his eyes shut, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat, his fingers already moving blindly across the keyboard.

 

**Obi-Wan Kenobi:** _Can we video call?_

 

Qui-Gon’s reply was almost instant.

 

**Qui-Gon Jinn:** _Of course._

 

Before Obi-Wan could move, the call notification had already popped up on his screen, and a click later it had been replaced by Qui-Gon’s face.

“Obi-Wan?”

Obi-Wan’s breath came rushing out of him, and he rubbed a hand across his face again, closing his eyes against the concern he could hear in the other man’s voice. “Hey,” he said, weakly.

“Are you alright?”

Obi-Wan felt his lips pull up into a painful not-quite-smile. The ache in his throat swelled into a sob that turned into a failed attempt at laughter. Anything to stave off the tears he knew were threatening. “Not…not really.”

“Oh, Obi-Wan.”

He pressed his lips together, breathing out hard through his nose. “It’s just…it’s been a day. A really…really long day, and I―”

“You don’t need to explain yourself,” Qui-Gon said gently, as Obi-Wan let out a shuddering breath, his composure cracking further. “I’m just glad I was online.”

Obi-Wan nodded. “Me too. I didn’t…I just…”

Dammit, he could feel the tears slipping down his cheeks. Fuck. “I didn’t want to be alone,” he whispered, voice cracking. Another sob welled up before he could stop it, and he had to set the laptop down beside him so he could turn and pull his knees to his chest.

“Oh, Obi-Wan.” Qui-Gon said again, and that was it. Obi-Wan was gone, shoved over the edge by the concern in his friend’s voice.

“Sorry,” he gasped, pressing his face against his knees, feeling tear soak into the denim of his jeans. “Sorry, it’s just― fuck, everything has been going wrong, and I’ve got so much to do and I feel like I can’t breathe I’m so stressed and―” he had to stop as another wave of sobs rendered him mute, and he curled in further on himself.

“You don’t need to apologize,” Qui-Gon said. Something about his voice, even though he was on the other side of an ocean, felt like a warm hand on Obi-Wan’s back, or a ghost of the hug he suddenly wanted so desperately.

“The fucking wallpaper in the bathroom is peeling again,” he said suddenly, voice contorting into that awful half laugh half sob that always happened when he got like this, as he desperately tried to pull himself back together.

“You hate that wallpaper.”

“I do!” Obi-Wan raised his head, eyes still streaming, and scrubbed at his nose with his sleeve. “I do, but it’s fucking peeling again, and my damn thesis might as well be my own personal rock to roll up a mountain of bullshit, and I dropped the mug you sent you sent me this afternoon and it broke, and I just. I want to go to sleep.”

It was a wail, a whine, a desperate plea for permission to just _stop._ Just for a little bit. Obi-Wan met Qui-Gon’s eyes, and saw the other man chewing on his lower lip, looking torn and sad.

Obi-Wan sniffled, and wiped his nose again. He felt abruptly drained, all hollow and empty, though he was pretty sure he could still be set off again. “Sorry,” he whispered.

Qui-Gon shook his head. “No, no. I’m sorry, Ben. I wish there was something more I could do. I wish I were there to help.”

Obi-Wan looked away, the ache in his throat poking its head up once again. “I wish you were here too.” He whispered. “I think…I could really do with a hug right now.”

Qui-Gon was silent for a long moment, and Obi-Wan spent a few distracted seconds fumbling for a box of tissues and noisily blowing his nose.

“What if I could?” Qui-Gon asked suddenly, when Obi-Wan had gone quiet again.

Obi-Wan blinked. “What?”

Qui-Gon, he noticed, had a Look on his face. The look that meant he was planning something, usually something that that would make Obi-Wan roll his eyes and question every minute of the past four years of interaction he’d had with the other man.

Qui-Gon dragged a hand through his hair, hanging loose around his face today. “What if I could be there?”

Obi-Wan blinked again, still not sure he was hearing correctly. “I― It’s almost a seven-hour flight from Toronto,” he spluttered, meltdown temporarily forgotten in the face of Qui-Gon’s utterly ridiculous line of thought. “And you can’t just hop on a random plane because I’m having a shitty day.”

“Why not?” Qui-Gon wasn’t looking at him now, focused instead on something else on his screen that Obi-Wan could not see.

“Why no― Because you can’t!”

Qui-Gon looked up. “There’s a ticket for an overnight flight to Edinburgh that’s in a couple hours. I’d land in Edinburgh at around…” he hesitated and then pulled a face, dropping his eyes back to the screen. “Five am.”

“Qui-Gon―”

“Oh, here, this one would get me there for ten am, that’s better.”

“Qui-Gon!”

Qui-Gon looked up. “Hm?”

Obi-Wan stared at him for a long moment. His own heartbeat felt too loud in his ears. “What…are you doing?”

It was Qui-Gon’s turn to blink uncomprehendingly. “I’m looking at plane tickets.”

Obi-Wan dragged a hand down his face. “I…yes, Qui-Gon I see that. But _why?_ ”

“Because I can. Because you’re hurting, and I don’t want you to be alone. Because this keeps happening more and more lately, and I’m worried about you. Because I care about you, Obi-Wan, and I want to see you.” Qui-Gon hesitated, suddenly looking stricken. “Oh. I mean, if you want to see me too. I’m sorry, I didn’t―”

Obi-Wan shook his head, holding up a hand to silence the Canadian. “You can’t just fly here on a whim, Qui-Gon. It’s too expensive.”

“It’s fine, Obi-Wan. You know money hasn’t been an issue for me for a while.”

“Your dad couldn’t have left that much. And you’ve been sending me expensive tea for months now.”

Qui-Gon rolled his eyes. “The old man was disgustingly rich, Obi-Wan, and I don’t have any siblings. I think he did it to spite me.”

Obi-Wan blinked, and then decided that was something to be processed at a later date. “But―”

“Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon’s voice was suddenly serious. “I had actually meant to suggest a visit. This just…sped it up. Do you want me to come visit? Tell me honestly.”

Obi-Wan blinked, feeling fresh tears pricking in his eyes, his emotions still running too high, too fast. He gave himself a moment to think. He had known Qui-Gon for…damn, coming up on five years. What had started as some pleasant debates on an online forum had somehow, somewhere, grown into something more. A friendship that Obi-Wan would not give up for anything. He’d only just turned twenty when they first met, Qui-Gon twenty-four. He’d been there when Obi-Wan finished his undergrad, sending him silly videos and reminders to eat. Their first video call had been to celebrate Obi-Wan’s acceptance to graduate school. He’d been there when Qui-Gon’s father had passed away, and Qui-Gon had gotten drunk and ranted until the wee hours of his Canadian morning. He loved talking to Qui-Gon, treasure their increasingly frequent video chat, where he was able to see the way the other man laughed, how he was always putting his hair up, taking it down, playing with it.

And at the end of all that, there was really only one answer.

“I want to see you,” Obi-Wan murmured. He laughed and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “I really want to see you, Qui. I’ve wanted to for ages.” He sniffed. “I wish the flight weren’t so long.”

Qui-Gon’s expression softened. “I do too.” There was the sound of typing and then he nodded. “There. Ticket book.” He glanced back up at Obi-Wan, and gave him the crooked smile that always set Obi-Wan’s heart racing. “Now. Go wash your face and put something soft on. And make tea. Then you can help me pack, okay?”

Obi-Wan nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

He stood up, and then stopped, wiping his eyes one more time.

“Hey, Qui-Gon?”

“Yes, Obi-Wan?”

“Thank you.”

Qui-Gon’s smile, Obi-Wan thought, was like all the goodness in the world, bundled up into one, brilliant expression.

“You are always welcome, Obi.”


End file.
